


Shelter You

by Bandity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Major injuries, Minor Injuries, improper medical care, some eating issues due to misplaced guilt, surprisingly nobody pukes, we are ignoring infinity war and endgame, wound description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandity/pseuds/Bandity
Summary: Harley's father makes a reappearance and Peter makes a promise that is definitely going to backfire, but he just wants to be a good friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wasn't going to write another Spiderman fic for awhile, but I had some surprising free time and this idea came to me and I couldn't let it go.

Thinking back, Peter would be ashamed that it had taken him so long to realize.

He didn't ask about it when he overheard the other boy telling Mr. Stark that his father had made a reappearance, that the man had been moving back into his life. He didn't connect the dots when Harley canceled plans to visit the compound for the weekend. 

He didn't think about it when Harley moved about the lab, complaining about an injury he had sustained while riding his bike. And Peter didn't question him about the story of the school fight that resulted in Harley's black eye.

Tony had been irritated at that one. "What did I say about this? You gotta be smarter than them. You can't win in a fight, kid."

"I know, Tony, I know."

Peter had never spared it a second thought, weeks went by and he'd only nodded along as Harley complained about twisting his ankle or bruising a rib the past weekend.

He had caught Harley speaking quietly to Mr. Stark one day, asking- no, pleading with Tony to help him move a bunch of stuff out of a garage somewhere. Peter didn’t know the whole story, but he gathered that Harley had a bunch of stuff from Tony sitting around, and Harley’s father had taken up some kind of resentment over it.

In the end, Tony agreed to move the stuff, promising to keep it safe until Harley could get a place of his own.

Peter hadn’t asked about it. Hadn’t questioned why Harley sounded so desperate over it.

And really. How stupid was he? He should have seen it. He would never forgive himself for it; for not figuring it out sooner.

And for what he did afterwards.

Though it was really more of what he _didn't_ do that was the problem.

* * *

They had been having a planned weekend in the lab at the compound, but Harley had shown up later Friday evening than usual. He'd eaten dinner with Tony and Peter and then claimed to be feeling tired, so he'd gone to bed, leaving just Peter and Tony in the lab.

Eventually, Tony told Peter to go to bed. Not because he was able to keep track of any kind of sleep schedule, but because Pepper had made him program Friday to give him reminders that teenagers should be getting sleep and under no circumstances were they allowed to follow his example.

Peter, however, usually stayed up pretty late as Spiderman, so despite the regulated bedtime, he found himself wired and unable to sleep. He paced the ceiling and walls of his room. Tony hated it when he did that, claiming he left footprints literally everywhere and it was ridiculously hard to talk to him when he was at such an awkward angle.

Peter was bored and attempting a sort of upside down cartwheel when there was a knock at his door. He landed on the floor with a thump and stumbled quickly to the door, readying an excuse for Tony about why he was still awake.

However, when he opened the door, he found Harley standing there. Peter thought it was odd because the other boy hadn't even changed into his pajamas, though he claimed to have gone to bed hours ago. The other weird thing was what Harley was carrying.

Harley was clutching a first aid kit to his abdomen. The boy stared at Peter and, judging by the way Harley’s eyes darted to the right and left, he was seriously regretting the decision to knock on Peter’s door.

“Hey?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “Are you-”

“_Can you help me with something_?” The words tumbled out in one great rush from Harley’s mouth.

Peter nodded and quickly moved to the side, allowing room for Harley to enter. The boy rushed in and Peter was reminded of a skittish dog he had tried to help out on patrol the week before. Harley glanced around the room, he let out a forced sounding laugh as he gestured to the wall.

“You got footprints everywhere again. Tony hates that.”

Peter shrugged. He didn’t know what was going on. It was- he checked the clock on the bedside table- nearly 2am.

“Yeah, what do you need help with?” Peter tried to aim for calm and casual. Exactly how he had tried to approach that lost dog.

Harley jolted into action, he opened the first aid kit and started rummaging through it.

“I gotta- I gotta cut thing and I can’t reach it.”

Peter felt like he was immediately underqualified. He had a healing factor that took care of all his injuries and anything that was too big for him to handle was taken care of by May or Tony and one or two doctors who had been sworn to secrecy long ago.

“How bad is it?” Peter’s question was basically answered when Harley finally sat the kit down on the bed and pulled out gauze and a needle and thread.

“Oh.” Peter took the items, even though his brain screamed at him that he had no idea what he was doing.

“It’s just-” Harley started to lift up the hem of his shirt, but he paused, shook his head. Later Peter would realize it was because he was in pain that he had stopped moving.

Harley turned in a circle, searching for something. He found Peter’s desk chair and he sat heavily into it with a huff. He turned sideways so that he wasn’t leaning into the back of the chair. “I fell off my bike a few days ago.” He leaned forward and pulled up the hem of his shirt as best as he could.

Peter saw red.

No actual wound, just red, swollen skin. Tentatively, he lifted up Harley’s shirt a bit more. He immediately wished he had mentally prepared himself better.

Harley’s ‘cut thing’ was a long slice in his skin starting from his lower spine and moving out towards his abdomen. Half of the wound was stitched, while the rest of it was open, and weeping fluid.

“Oh.” Peter swallowed, prayed his sense of smell wouldn’t insist on kicking into overdrive. “It’s infected,” he finally managed. That didn’t feel like it accurately described it. The stitched section was bright and swollen around the messy stitches and the rest of it was oozing out pus. The red radiated out across his back. Peter pulled the shirt up higher and they both stopped breathing.

Marks over marks over marks.

Cuts and welts and burns. Some were scars, while others were in the process of healing. Peter knew what those kinds of things looked like, but Harley had no reason to know. No reason to have any.

“What’s- what’s going on? What is this?”

Harley didn’t answer.

“Harley?”

“I told you, I fell off my bike. I know the stitches are a mess. I want to just take them out."

“Harley, I don’t-uh…”

“Can you help me or not?”

“Harley, I want to help, but this is infected. You should go to the medical bay. You should tell Tony."

"I can't." Harley was turned away, staring at the surface of Peter's desk. And Peter. Peter was out of his depth. But he knew he needed to say something. He took a deep breath, felt the anxiety and stress that filled the room and he made his attempt.

"Why not?"

Harley leaned further away from him, tugging the hem of his shirt back down, hiding away all of the evidence of pain.

"You don't understand. Of course you wouldn't." Harley picked up the first aid kit from the bed and started rummaging through it. "I'll do it myself." He pulled some small surgical scissors from the box and several disinfectant wipes. All Harley had to do was bring the scissors back towards the haphazard stitches surrounded by the bloated red skin and Peter instantly caved.

"God, no, don't!" Peter shielded the cut with his hand. All he could imagine was Harley inadvertently slicing into the wound and leaking blood and pus everywhere and he couldn't let him do that to himself.

A new plan then.

"I'll help. I'll help you, but you have to tell me what's going on. Really."

Harley eyed him for a long moment, absently fidgeting with the scissors he still held.

"Fine. But you can't tell anyone. You have to promise."

"Harley…"

"No. You have to promise. It's important."

Peter _knew _it was a stupid promise to make. Before he even knew all the details, he knew any sworn secret could just hurt Harley more.

But Harley was hurt now and Peter didn't know what else to do to help him.

"I promise."

He didn’t think he would ever forgive himself for actually keeping his word.

* * *

Harley's life had been changing the past few months. His father had come back, Peter knew that, but what he didn't know was what that really meant.

His father was working, bringing in money to the Keener household. Harley's mom was able to cut back on her hours. There was more food in the home and new clothes for them all.

But Harley's father had a short fuse.

And Harley could never figure out what was going to set him off.

He had taken offense to Harley's quick retorts, to his disrespect; as if Harley would ever waste time being respectful to assholes. Then he took offense to Harley taking up all the space in their garage.

And then he took offense to Harley in general.

"He's not going to stick around. I just have to deal until he gets too annoyed and leaves."

Peter hadn't been saying anything. He had found some gloves in the first aid kit, ran an internet search for videos about dealing with bad cuts and he had set to work. Harley never did more than wince as Peter cleaned and cut away stitches that Harley must have made in a frantic rush. After it was cleaned, Peter snuck quickly down to the lab. Tony kept more serious medical supplies there. He had thought about going to the medical wing, but the lab was the better option as he had less of a chance of being caught.

If he happened to run into Tony, he could just say he thought he had forgotten something there.

Peter had just put a sealant over the newly cleaned cut when he realized Harley had grown quiet.

“Harley?” Peter questioned as he tugged at the other boy’s shirt. “Can I take care of the other ones too? I have burn cream.”

“No, those don’t even really hurt that much anymore.”

Peter thought of all the lab time they had spent together the last few months. How had he not realized? How had Mr. Stark not realized? He was the adult, right?

“I think you should tell someone that your dad hurts you," Peter whispered and he hated how childish he sounded.

Harley finally turned and looked at him. “If it was you, would you say anything? If someone came along and made your Aunt’s life easier, made your family’s life better, would you ruin all that?”

Peter opened his mouth, he was going to say of course he would tell someone, but when he thought about it, he wasn’t so sure. Harley was giving him a pointed look and Peter knew he saw through him. Harley had gotten to know him pretty well the last few months.

“I have enhanced healing though. It wouldn’t be so bad for me," Peter fidgeted with the burn gel in his hands.

“Well, the rest of us just have to deal.” Harley stood up from the chair.

“Harley.” Peter straightened up, but Harley was still taller than him.

“Look, he hasn’t laid a finger on my mom or sister. If he hurt either of them, he’d be gone, but I can take it. I can make a compromise. If it helps everyone out, I can deal with it.”

“Are you sure?” It was wrong and he felt a pain in his gut that he recognized as guilt.

"I'm sure. Don't tell anyone. You promised."

Harley was only a few months older, but in that moment, it felt like he had another lifetime on Peter.

Harley always had a sharper edge, a confidence, an invulnerability and a cynicism that made him less gullible than Peter.

So if he said it was okay, then how could Peter argue?

"I won't tell."

* * *

Peter started calling Harley every weekend that the other boy couldn't make it out to the compound. He tried a video chat once, but Harley refused. Peter was pretty sure that meant that Harley had a black eye or something else he was hiding.

Besides Peter being a nuisance on the phone, nothing really changed. Harley made it out to the compound once every two or three weeks and they worked in the lab with Tony. And it was all just normal.

Until it wasn't.

Harley walked in with a splint on his thumb and Peter could only stare, wide eyed.

"Is your hand broken?" He blurted out before even saying hello.

"Sprained my thumb playing baseball." Harley spoke carefully, eyeing Peter meaningfully. "It's not broken."

Peter inhaled sharply. He wanted to ask. He wanted to question him. Did your dad do that? Why? Why hasn't he just left already?.

But then Tony walked in, he saw the splint and shook his head. "You're killing me, kid. What did you do to yourself now?"

"Baseball, no mitts." Harley waved his hand through the air and grinned widely. "I caught the ball at least."

"I don't know, you gonna be able to keep up like that?"

Tony was only teasing him, but it made Peter feel like someone had stabbed him in the gut.

Harley smiled. "I'll do better than you do with your arthritis, old man."

"Watch it, kid." Tony pointed a wrench at him, waved it in the air between them. Tony sounded offended, but Peter saw the smirk turning up the corner of his lips. Peter also saw the flinch that Harley quickly smoothed away when the wrench got too close.

They started working, Harley jumping between whatever projects he wanted while Mr. Stark continued his suit upgrades. Peter only realized he wasn’t doing anything himself when Harley managed to casually sidewind over to him and bumped his elbow.

“Stop staring. You’re going to make him think something is wrong with you.”

Peter noticed the way Harley was wording it. Making it about Peter and not him.

Peter frowned, feeling like something bitter was in his mouth. “Did he break your thumb, Harley?” he spat out the words along with the awful taste on his tongue.

Harley at least had the decency to look surprised before his expression turned stony.

“You _promised_,” he hissed.

Peter looked away, staring a hole into the table instead. He was frustrated and angry. And he wasn’t even mad at the right people. Feeling his frustration turn inward, he shook his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Peter glanced up, found Tony was still working away at something on the other side of the room. He didn’t make any inclination that he had heard the exchange. Harley was watching Tony too and, when the man didn’t say anything, Harley tapped the screen in front of Peter, bringing up the latest ideas for Spiderman’s suit.

“You should worry about your own stuff. The neighborhood’s not going to save itself.” Harley walked away without another word.

Peter told himself it was okay. Harley would be okay.

He didn’t get any work done in the lab that day.

* * *

Harley cancelled his next weekend at the lab.

He claimed he had tests at school and if he wanted to not be held back a grade, he needed to study.

Peter spent that weekend and the following week calling him. Harley never answered.

Peter thought he was handling it well… well-ish. He was keeping busy with school and Spiderman stuff and he wasn’t going to let it bother him. He had been sworn to secrecy and, despite what everyone seemed to think, he could keep a secret. Even a horrible one.

He wished Harley would answer his texts though.

“Alright, what’s wrong with you?” MJ dropped her books on his desk, making a loud thud reverberate throughout the room. Luckily, class hadn’t started yet and Peter had been using his free time to stare at his phone.

“Nothing.” Peter shrugged, but it felt more like his shoulders were spasming and it probably looked like he was trying to get rid of some kind of shoulder cramp.

“Nope, you’ve been weird all week. Weirder than usual. Ned noticed too, but he didn’t want to say anything.”

Ned had actually walked up, getting ready to have a seat, but he overheard the conversation and stopped. Shuffling from one foot to another, he looked like he was rethinking walking over to them.

“I’m fine.” It was more or less true. There was nothing wrong with Peter. Harley might be dead in a ditch somewhere and it was probably his fault for making a stupid promise, but he was okay.

“You don’t want to tell me, okay. Fine. Tell someone though. You look terrible.” She left to take her seat before he could get another word in. Ned sat beside him and the silence was so uncomfortable, Peter wished he could get up and skip class.

He didn’t do that though. He sat there and let the lesson pass through one ear and out the other. He was so lost in thought that when he saw his phone screen light up with a new message from the very cause of his concern, he nearly launched the device off his desk when he went to grab it.

He stood up with such abruptness that his teacher stopped talking and everyone turned to look at him at once.

“I’m sick, can I go to the bathroom?” He explained in a rush. Startled, the teacher agreed and Peter darted from the room, not waiting for any kind of hall pass to be given to him.

He actually did end up in the bathroom, it was the closest place there was that provided a semblance of privacy.

**Harley**: You’re lucky my father is too stupid to figure out how to unlock a phone and read the messages

**Peter**: Are you ok?

**Harley**: Yes. Phone got taken away. I just managed to sneak it back

**Peter**: I was worried

**Harley**: I couldn’t tell

Harley was always sarcastic in texts and Peter used to have a hard time figuring out when he was being serious or not.

**Harley**: I have to go. I got to put the phone back

Peter started to type out a response, but then the device lit up with another message.

**Harley**: If he manages to read any of your messages or if he figures out I touched my phone I’m dead. Dont text me anymore

Peter stared, his thumbs hovering uselessly over the keyboard. He needed- he couldn’t… what was he supposed to do now?

Something was seizing his throat and he swallowed against the sensation. His eyes stung. It wasn’t even him being hurt. He couldn’t be here crying over it in the bathroom. He couldn’t-

The door to the bathroom swung open so hard it hit the wall on the opposite side with a bang. A familiar face popped in and his only reaction was to stare dumbly as MJ glanced around before slipping in.

“I said I would bring you a hall pass and make sure you weren’t dead.” She handed him the clipboard that their class used for the bathroom pass. Peter took it, too stunned to refuse. MJ eyed him curiously, before she gave a slight nod. “You want to talk about it, yet?”

“I promised I wouldn’t.”

MJ’s eyes went wide before she narrowed them. “Promised _who_?”

Peter shook his head and he blinked, embarrassed that he needed to clear the tears from his eyes.

“A bad promise?” MJ raised an eyebrow. Peter shrugged at that.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not a good promise.” MJ’s reasoning sounded solid, it made sense.

“I’m not crying.” He protested weakly.

“If it’s _hurting _you, it’s not a good promise.”

“I’m not the hurt one. It’s not my secret, okay? It’s not mine.”

MJ’s eyes darted back and forth and he realized what she was doing. Peter didn’t have a lot of close friends. The amount of people he knew that he could be told to keep secrets for could be counted on one hand.

“I'm pretty good at keeping secrets." MJ crossed her arms over her chest.

He couldn't argue that. Ever since MJ had found out about Spiderman, she had been a completely trusted friend and she helped him with cover stories all the time.

"I wouldn't even tell Ned. I swear."

Peter wasn't sure; Harley had told him not to tell anyone, but MJ was, well, MJ. And Peter... Peter had felt sick all week, waiting to find out if Harley was okay. He didn't want to do this alone anymore. If he could just have someone to talk with, maybe some of his own anxiety would be eased…

"Harley's dad hurts him." Peter felt his mouth go dry. He had been planning on giving her the situation without naming the other boy, but as soon as he decided to break his promise, something in his brain switched off and the wrong words came tumbling out.

MJ at least didn't stare wide eyed, looking scared; she didn't react the way Peter did when he found out. She pursed her lips and nodded.

"How bad?" Her voice sounded forced, but she looked calm.

"I think pretty bad." Peter was staring at the floor now.

"And he made you promise not to tell." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah."

MJ nodded. She took a few steps closer, causing Peter to look up. "That's the exact kind of promise you have to break. You know that, right?"

Logically, he thought he knew that. But he had promised and Harley had seemed adamant…

"Peter?" MJ raised her eyebrow. "You know you have to tell someone. You have to tell an actual adult."

Peter nodded. But his stomach sank.

Telling MJ had not made him feel any better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hated that I split this fic up and I felt like it didn't flow as well now and it was driving me nuts. So I figured I would either post the next part asap or just delete the thing. I had some free time so I went ahead and finished the second chapter.
> 
> Thank you to Cocopops1995 and ardett for commenting. I'm pretty sure I would have just deleted it, if not for your comments. 
> 
> Please excuse mistakes.

He said he would tell someone, but with his Aunt… his words got stuck and he realized he should tell Tony. Aunt May would probably call him anyway if Peter did tell her, so he might as well go directly to Mr. Stark.

MJ kept texting him, pushing him to say something sooner rather than later. She finally backed off when he said he would be going up to the compound for the weekend and telling Mr. Stark in person.

It made sense. It sounded like a procrastination strategy, but it also made sense. Really.

Friday came around and Happy picked him up from school. He tried to act natural, but he felt like he was talking way too much, even for him. He just kept going on and on and he was pretty sure Happy had tuned him out long ago.

Peter paused to take a deep breath and then launched into a detailed description of his physics homework.

He didn't mean to bore the man so completely, he just couldn't help it.

When they finally arrived at the compound, Peter stopped talking. He had been turning it over in his head, but he couldn't find the right thing to say. Part of him was still hoping to find a way to clue Mr. Stark in without breaking his promise. But he didn’t know how to do that.

"Kid, you alright?" Happy was staring at him with both eyebrows raised. Peter realized he had been sitting in the car, not saying anything for too long.

"I'm good," Peter forced out before hastily exiting the vehicle. He made his way down to the lab without looking back.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't realize he was alone until he was standing in the middle of the lab.

"Friday, where's Mr. Stark?" Peter turned in place, checking to see if he had missed him somehow.

"Mr. Stark is returning from a meeting. He will be arriving shortly."

"Okay, thank you." Peter took a seat at one of the tables. This was fine, it gave him some time to gather his thoughts.

Peter stared blankly at nothing. Minutes ticked by and he couldn’t think. He thought about texting MJ and asking her what he should even _say_. But, no, he needed to just do this. Just talk to Mr. Stark and break his promise and don’t worry about Tony being mad for not telling him sooner….

Peter felt like his stomach was turning itself into knots. He told himself it was better than being sick with worry for Harley. This was the right thing to do.

When Tony came into the lab a few minutes later, he was already talking a mile a minute. He was saying what they would be working on and the new ideas he had for Peter’s suit. He stopped when he realized that Peter was just staring. Just sitting and staring, with no projects opened.

“You alright there?” Tony asked, interrupting his own verbal onslaught.

“Yeah,” Peter answered quickly. _Oh my god, that was your opening, you idiot!_

Peter’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything else, even though his brain was screaming at him.

Tony tilted his head to the side, he looked like he was trying to figure something out, but then the look was gone and he continued talking. Peter took a deep breath. He just needed to open his mouth and hope something understandable would come out.

Tony was pulling up screens, talking about enforcing certain areas of the suit. Places where Peter was more likely to be hit, based on actual painful research of the areas where Peter was damaging the suit and himself the most.

Peter drummed his fingers against his thigh. It was time to just do it.

Two things happened simultaneously.

Peter opened his mouth and every blue screen in the lab went red. For an instant, Peter thought he was having a hemorrhagic stroke that was causing him to hallucinate, but then Tony stopped midsentence and went still. As quickly as he had stopped, he started moving again. Swiping away different screens.

“No, no, tell me where,” he demanded.

“Claiborne Medical Center in Tazewell, Tennessee," Friday's voice sounded immediately.

“Get in, find out what’s happened, Friday.”

“One moment, sir.”

Tony scowled at a map he had brought up.

“That’s a 16 mile trip. Damn. Alright, Friday, give me names and backgrounds on the doctors there.” Tony was already swiping through profiles.

“Tennessee?” Peter blurted out. Tony jumped, as though he had forgotten that Peter was there.

Tony waved at the screens around him, closing half of them.

“I have a list. A list of people that if they are admitted to any medical facility, I get notified. Usually, it’s just a message that pops up, but red?” Tony motioned to the screens surrounding him. “Red means emergency services.” Tony gestured to the map. “And if it’s Tennessee-” Tony stopped, looked at Peter. “Well, you know what that means, kid?”

“Harley.” Peter whispered. Tony nodded.

“Friday," Tony snapped his attention back to the screens. "16 miles is too much. I’m buying land in Rose Hill, I’m going to build a hospital.”

“Noted, sir.”

“Any news on getting into his charts?”

“Only the initial assessment is in their system. Mr. Keener was unconscious upon arrival. Head injury and multiple fractures suspected. Patient’s father is reporting an accident on his bike.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter was going to throw up.

“Alright Friday, update me whenever they log in any more information.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“Start making calls, I can have my surgeons there in no time.”

“Tony.” Peter put a dent in the table, he was gripping the edge so hard.

“Hang on, kid. Friday bring up their chief surgeon, do they even have one?”

“_Harley’s dad hurts him_.” There it was, the words he couldn't find soon enough. Tony looked like someone had just slapped him. He stilled, before whipping around to stare at Peter.

“What did you just say?” Tony inched closer.

“Harley- Harley’s dad. He hurts him. A lot. And I was trying to tell you. I was trying to tell you.”

Tony stopped moving. He looked like he was processing something and then he shook his head slightly.

“Shit.” Tony started moving again, his actions taking on a more noticeable urgency.

“Friday, file a report. See if you can locate the smaller one, ah, Abbie Keener. The mom too.”

"Yes, sir."

Tony whipped back towards Peter. The intensity of Mr. Stark's look startled him.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long did you know about it?”

“I don’t- I don’t know, a while.” Peter felt his eyes stinging, but he blinked away any tears. “He had an infected cut that he asked me to help with. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. He made me promise not to tell.”

“Of course he did.” Tony took in a deep breath through his nose. "Alright, look. It’s not your fault. This is on me. But I have to go. I have to go and make sure he’s okay. Stay here and I’ll be back. Alright?”

Peter nodded.

And when Tony left the room, Peter collapsed onto a nearby stool and fought back the urge to cry, too angry at himself to do anything else.

* * *

Tony bought the hospital.

He had said it was just easier than trying to move Harley anywhere.

It was early Sunday morning when Tony sent for Peter. He flew down with Happy, who had been keeping an eye on him for the past day or so. He had been moping around the compound since Friday, not really wanting to just go back home to May and possibly miss updates, but not really wanting to stay either.

Once Peter had arrived at the hospital, Tony had told him to wait for him in Harley's room. Peter did as he was told, but sitting there in the quiet, he started to wish he hadn't come.

Harley was pale with bright bruising around his eyes and sutured together skin across his cheekbone. One arm was in a cast and the other was connected to the IV line and the monitors.

Underneath the hospital gown and blankets, Peter had been informed that there was more damage there. But he had checked out during the discussion of internal bleeding.

Peter sat and he listened to the steady beeping. And he absolutely hated himself.

Harley had a room to himself at the hospital at least. Peter was grateful, especially because his breath kept hitching and he really didn't want an audience for that.

The minutes dragged by and Peter was just thinking he should leave when there was a soft rustling next to him. Harley was shifting around.

The other boy's eyes finally opened and Peter really couldn't tell if Harley was actually awake or not. He was staring in Peter's direction at least.

"You told." And his voice was cracked and dry, but had a bite to it. Peter swallowed hard. His words failed him. He managed a shaky nod. Harley sighed as deeply as his healing ribs would allow him.

"'m sorry," Peter managed to push out through a closing throat and his fingers that he was pressing to his mouth.

Harley let out a soft groan as his face pinched in pain. He shifted his arms, but the cast and tubes were weighing him down.

"Harley…"

"Don't want to talk about it. Just go," Harley managed through a grimace.

"I am sorry that I had to break my promise, but I'm… I’m more sorry that I didn't break it sooner.” Peter set his jaw and sat up straight. “I should have told as soon as I found out. He could have killed you, Harley.” Peter’s voice cracked at the end, betraying the courage he had summoned. “He almost killed you.”

Harley didn’t respond. He cast his eyes to his arms, followed the tubing to the machines that were monitoring him. Peter saw another flash of pain on his face, but the other boy was quick to smooth it away.

“Go away, Peter.” Harley wouldn’t look at him. Peter stood from his chair, prepared to leave, but a hand fell on his shoulder, startling him. Tony had managed to slip in and Peter hadn't even realized it.

“Hey, kid." Tony let his hand fall away as he scanned Harley, seeking out his injuries. "You might not have realized this, but you’re not up to fighting with people right now.”

“Tony," Harley whispered.

“Yeah, how’re you feeling? They got to be careful with painkillers because of your head injury, but now that you’re awake, maybe they can look into pain management a bit more.” Tony absently straightened Harley's blanket.

“I’m alright.”

“Yeah, from what I hear, you’ve been hiding injuries for months. It's a hard habit to break.”

“Peter told you," Harley grumbled.

“Don’t do that. We both know you’re not actually mad at him. If anything, this one’s on me anyway. I should have seen it.”

“It's not your faul-”

“You forget, I am an adult and I knew something was off, but I was waiting for you to tell me. This is _my _fault.”

“It’s not yours- it’s mine. It’s mine.” Harley shifted, he made an attempt to sit up. Tony halted him, taking a moment to raise the bed a bit for him.

“It’s really not, kiddo," Tony said, but Harley rolled his eyes.

“Tony, I was a smartass with him and I wouldn’t let up, I set him off and then I hid it from everyone. I didn’t tell…"

Tony was brushing Harley's hair off his forehead.

He was being so careful, smoothing back errant strands with great care. Dry fingertips avoided bruising and carded gently through his hair.

“It’s not your fault,” Tony whispered.

Harley started crying.

"Oh, kid." Tony slowly settled beside him on the bed. He put out his arms and waited, letting Harley choose to collapse into him.

"Easy, easy," Tony whispered when his sobbing became too rough. He knew crying was hurting Harley’s fractured ribs.

Peter drifted to the side, feeling like he was intruding. Harley was talking and, if not for Peter's enhanced hearing, he probably wouldn't have been able to hear what he was saying. But he did.

“I thought he would get bored and leave. Why didn’t he just leave?” Harley choked out. "He was fine with mom and Abbie. And I don't know- why does he hate me so much?”

“Harley," Tony cleared his throat. "To hell with your dad. You don’t need that asshole. You never have."

"I know I don't. I know." Harley let out a cough.

"And," Tony lightly patted his back, "you're never going to have to see that prick again. I made sure. He's never going to be around you ever again."

Harley let out another sob and it must have hurt because he gasped and hunched further into Tony's arms.

Peter stepped out of the room.

He knew Harley didn't want him there. He knew he wouldn't want Peter seeing him crying so much. And Peter couldn't take just standing there anymore. All he could think was that Harley would have been spared all that pain if he had told someone sooner. Harley would have been mad, but he was mad at him anyways, so what had been the point of keeping it to himself for so long?

Peter sunk down to the floor of the hospital hallway. It was cold and it smelled like disinfectant, but he didn't have anywhere to go.

Happy had driven him to the hospital, but the man had disappeared, probably running some errands or helping with some company business.

Peter thought about texting May. Though he had no idea what he was going to say. He passed several minutes staring at the floor, trying to figure out what he could do.

"You're Peter Parker."

Peter jumped at the voice. He looked up to find weirdly familiar eyes staring back at him.

"You're Abbie," Peter managed to choke out. He knew her, even if they had never met.

The girl nodded. Peter had no idea how old she was, not a really little kid, but too young to be having to deal with what her family was going through.

"Abbie, don't bother anyone."

"Mom, he's-"

"Shhhh, come here."

Peter had never met Harley's mother and even at that moment he didn't get a good look at her. She swept her daughter along, into the room, barely sparing him a glance. In the briefest moment before she disappeared from view, Peter could tell she was a tall, thin woman with a pale complexion and an air of exhaustion about her. He wondered if Harley and Abbie had their mother's eyes.

Tony was soon hurrying from the room, a grimace on his face.

"Let's go kid. I'm not well liked by that woman."

"Why not?" Peter's voice still sounded rough, though he hadn't really been crying. He stood up from the floor and realized his legs were shaking.

"I'm not always seen as a positive role model. And right now, she's… upset. So it's best if I head out." Tony slung an arm around Peter's shoulders and patted his arm. "You, though, let's talk about you. Have you eaten today?"

"Happy got me a bagel." Peter realized the shaking was probably a sign that his blood sugar was in the toilet.

"You actually eat it?"

_Nope._

"Uh. A little."

“Alright, breakfast first then.”

Peter had thought they would just go down to the hospital cafeteria, but Tony looked offended when he asked if that’s where they were headed.

They ended up in a small diner that was empty and, judging by the 'closed' sign on the door that they just breezed by, Mr. Stark had rented the place out for an hour or so.

It was weird, sitting alone with only Mr. Stark, while the handful of workers flitted by. Peter didn’t have time to dwell on it because soon the food was being brought out and piled before him.

He stared at the plates upon plates loaded with every breakfast food imaginable.

“Eat, kid." Tony said before digging into his own omelet. Peter continued staring. He famously had a huge appetite. His metabolism was something else and Tony tried to make sure he consumed enough calories when they were together. But Tony hadn't known Peter long enough. He didn’t know about the way Peter’s stomach turned against him when he was stressed.

“Mr. Stark, I’m not really hungry.”

“Happy texted me. Said he didn’t see you eat yesterday.” Tony waved his fork at Peter’s empty plate. “You have to eat. It's a rule and I gotta enforce it, kid.”

"I just feel sick," Peter finally admitted. Tony slowly put down his fork.

"How sick?"

"Not like really sick, I just… I messed up. I really messed up. And I'm so sorry."

Tony waved off the apology, but Peter kept talking.

"I didn't want to break my promise to Harley, but if I had done it sooner, maybe he wouldn't have gotten hurt so badly. And now Harley's mad and-"

"Look, like I said before, he's not really mad at you. Also, if he really wanted to hide it, he would never have come to you in the first place. I think a part of him was trying to tell people. So don't let it get to you. It's going to be alright. I swear." Tony shoved a plate of eggs closer. "Please try to eat."

Peter finally nodded and scooped some eggs onto his plate. He then nibbled at a piece of toast and Tony’s shoulders relaxed minutely as some of the tension left. Peter sighed. He glanced out the window, watching the people walking by, unaware of him and Mr. Stark, It was oddly soothing to watch the world go by.

Everything was still a mess, but in that quiet moment, he could exist with the semblance of peace.

Tony pushed more food towards him and he slowly filled his plate.

He could be okay right now.

* * *

The school year finished and Harley practically lived at the compound. His father wasn't in the picture and, according to Tony, he would never see him again.

But Harley still asked if he could stay at the compound for the summer.

When Peter overheard Tony asking him why he didn't want to go home, Harley just said that he felt safer at the compound.

"Everything okay with your mom?" Tony checked.

"Yeah, she's fine. I just feel weird. The house feels weird." Harley drummed his fingers on the table. "It's hard to relax there."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

Harley had been doing well, but he never talked about what had happened. Peter never found out what had set Harley's father off so badly that he had nearly killed his own son.

In fact, all conversation between him and Peter had been stilted at best.

It sucked.

Peter was spending a good portion of his time at the compound's lab too, so they moved around each other in relative silence. Harley didn't seem mad at him anymore, but things weren't the same between them.

It was midsummer when Peter was working on creating a large batch of web fluid. Harley was on the other side of the room, putting together schematics for his own project. Tony had stepped out and, with just the two of them, they were working in silence again.

Peter had been searching his brain for something to say non-stop, which was probably why he tipped over one beaker into the fluid before he was supposed to.

His sense of danger spiked sharply and he managed to duck under the table as his concoction exploded with a loud bang.

Peter resurfaced right away to find his premade web fluid flung across the table, up on the walls and on the ceiling.

"Mr. Stark is going to kill me." Peter figured Friday had probably already let Tony know there had been an explosion in the lab, that was the protocol anyway. Peter looked up at Harley who was staring wide eyed. He was out of range of the substance, luckily, but he looked absolutely terrified. He had backed up, pressing his back to the wall and Peter could hear his short gasping breaths.

"Harley, I'm sorry. It's okay." Peter wasn’t sure what was setting him off, but he assumed it had been the loud bang.

Before Harley could make any kind of response, the door to the lab opened and Tony came barreling in.

"What the hell did you do?" Tony took the scene in quickly. "Shit, kid. Not again." Tony was making his way to Peter, avoiding globs of webbing. He reached out, motioning for Peter to back away from the table.

"You okay?"

Peter was about to respond that he was fine, when there was a sudden tugging on his arm. Startled, he stumbled back a step before he realized Harley was trying to pull him away from Tony.

Harley's eyes were still wide as he placed an arm across Peter's chest and stepped between him and his mentor. Harley was breathing too fast, too hard and Peter could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

"Harley," Tony spoke carefully. "I'm not going to hurt Peter." He took a huge step back. "I'm not really mad, kid. I was _worried_."

Realization dawned on Harley all at once and his arm fell to his side, energy spent. He started to shake and it was the only warning sign before his knees gave out.

Peter caught him.

"Harley, you're going to get stuck to the floor." Peter murmured as he maneuvered the other boy a few steps back and leaned him against a clean wall. Harley was quick to slip down to the ground.

"Just breathe, okay?" Peter settled beside him. Harley leaned slightly into his shoulder and Peter sighed. Relieved the other boy was okay with being close.

They sat that way for a long time, breathing. Peter felt the shaking in Harley’s shoulders slowly dissipate. The boy started fidgeting and then running his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands too hard.

"I'm okay. Sorry," Harley forced out between clenched teeth.

"It's okay. It's my fault for blowing something up."

"No." Harley sat up fully and he turned to look at Peter directly. "It's not your fault." Harley glanced over at Tony who was opening his mouth to say something. "It's not your fault either, old man." Harley tilted his head to the side, thumping his skull against the wall. "I'm sorry, Peter, about everything. It was all so messed up."

"It's- Harley, it's really okay."

Harley swallowed thickly. "Okay," he echoed.

They stayed that way for several more minutes, breathing, comforting and close.

When Harley stood up, Tony reached out a hand, but he hesitated, waiting for permission. Harley nodded and Tony pulled him into a hug. He lightly patted his back, careful not to move too quickly or roughly. When they broke apart, Tony kept a hand on Harley's shoulder. "Let's take a break, beamish boy."

Avoiding the disaster of web fluid, they picked their way out of the lab and headed towards the door.

Mr. Stark looked back, saw Peter still hovering near the wall. "Let's go, underoos."

Peter smiled and, without warning, leapt to the wall and crawled up a few feet before standing and walking sideways towards his mentor.

"Not- the footprints- fine, whatever, kid. You're cleaning that later."

Peter smiled, but Harley, Harley threw back his head and laughed. It was only then that Peter realized he hadn't heard the other boy laugh in months. He had missed it.

Peter and Tony both grinned.

Tony squeezed Harley's shoulder. "There's my kid."

Harley ducked his head, looking embarrassed over the affection.

"Thanks, Tony." Harley mumbled. "For everything."

"You don't need to thank me, it's my job to take care of you." Tony glanced back at Peter. "Both of you."

Peter gave a grin and a thumbs up.

"Get off the ceiling, Peter." Tony sighed.

Harley and Peter both laughed, loud and untroubled. Tony thought it was the best sound he'd ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to say earlier, the title is taken from Demons by Imagine Dragons. 
> 
> Please comment!


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